Showing posts with label Holocaust. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Holocaust. Show all posts

Thursday, January 1, 2026

2025 Top Ten List #3 The Brutalist


 

































Director Brady Corbet

Corbet with Silver Lion at Venice

Corbet (right) in Haneke's Funny Games, 2007

Corbet with Mona Fastvold

The director on the set










THE BRUTALIST                 A-                                                                                             USA  Great Britain  Canada  (215 mi)  2024  d: Brady Corbet

None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free.                       —Erzsébet (Felicity Jones), quoting Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, 1809, in a voiceover letter read to her husband

The Holocaust is a frequent topic in cinema, with films as diverse as Alain Resnais making one of the first to confront the brutal devastation of the extermination camps in his 30-minute short film NIGHT AND FOG (1955), Marcel Ophuls’ intellectually inquisitive THE SORROW AND THE PITY (1969), Claude Lanzmann’s definitive yet dizzyingly expansive testimonial documentary SHOAH (1985), Louis Malle’s lyrically compassionate AU REVOIR LES ENFANTS (1987), Roman Polanski’s tragic first-person account in THE PIANIST (2002), or László Nemes’ frustratingly claustrophobic vantage point of Son of Saul (Saul Fia) (2015), where this is another entry, tying immigration and the postwar flight of Jews from the Nazis to Weimar-era Bauhaus and postwar Brutalist architecture, creating a monumental structure that matches the formulist design with this three-and-a-half-hour film that includes a fifteen minute intermission.  While that alone can seem overwhelming, that’s also part of the intent, as this is meant to be taken seriously, where we can’t forget that Auschwitz was designed by a Bauhaus architect, Fritz Ertl - Auschwitz.  The epic scope and sheer audacity of this film is tremendously appealing, filled with giant ideas, where the boldness of the vision is hard to miss, moving with frenetic energy and pace, brimming with optimism, where the overly bombastic style is unique, creating a larger-then-life canvas that is utterly captivating, using the eloquence of highly structured, Kubrick-infused, old-school filmmaking that is intense, but the film bogs down after the intermission, shifting the focus of the film, becoming more pessimistic, taking a slow turn into a downward spiral, where the initial allure turns exhaustive and emotionally draining, even disappointing, considering the ambitious wealth of artistry in the opening half.  Not sure this film needed an intermission, though after the explosive cinematic bombast, the quietly abstract, intermission piano music was one of the pleasures of the experience, Intermission (feat. John Tilbury) - The Brutalist Original Motion Picture Soundtrack YouTube (11:22), accompanied by a still image of a historic wedding photo surrounded by family (ghosts of the past) that counts down the seconds, as it may have played out differently without a break, but the anticipation created from such an extensively detailed set-up is one of the pleasures for viewers, but it ran out of imagination, feeling overly conventional by the end, speedily wrapping things up in a tidy bow, becoming more in line with what other movies do.  Instead of being inspired by the force of ideas, this limps to an anticlimactic finale that simply runs out of steam.  Surely there was a better way to end this film, as it frustratingly fails to pack an emotional punch, yet it’s fascinating how the title of the film can refer to different things as the film evolves over time, as it’s an art movement but it’s also a way of behavior.  The grandiosity of the film may remind viewers of Paul Thomas Anderson’s sprawling epic There Will Be Blood (2007), while also exposing the darkness that lies within the heart of the American Dream.  Matching the ferocious spirit of Marco Bellocchio’s bombastic historical drama VINCERE (2009), which delves behind the scenes in the rise of Benito Mussolini, or the sweeping landscape of Visconti’s 19th century THE LEOPARD (1963), this fictionalized version of Jewish-Hungarian architect László Toth has a similar historical arc, escaping postwar Europe, leaving his wife and orphaned niece behind as he arrives in America to begin a new life.  The film accentuates a decisive difference in what America expects from arriving immigrants, and what an artist expects from himself.  It’s a cautionary tale, one fraught with wonders and grandeur dreams, and the price that is ultimately paid to fulfill one’s personal destiny, where narrow-minded moneyed interests have a way of interjecting their own soul shattering, narcissistic self-interests in reshaping or even undoing that artistic legacy.  In an interesting aside, Laszlo Toth is the same name of the mentally unstable Hungarian-born Australian geologist who vandalized Michelangelo’s La Pietà in St. Peter’s Basilica in 1972, attacking the sculpture multiple times with a hammer (The day Michelangelo's Pietà was vandalised in a ...), perhaps a metaphor for how an artist is both a builder and a destroyer.

Winner of the Silver Lion for Best Direction at the 2024 Venice Film Festival, taking seven years to conceive, yet only 34 days to shoot in both Hungary and Italy, made for less than $10 million dollars, loosely inspired by the experiences of Jewish-Hungarian architect Marcel Breuer and Ayn Rand’s 1943 novel The Fountainhead, written by Corbet, who was one of the psychopathic home intruders in the American remake of Michael Haneke’s FUNNY GAMES (2007), along with his partner and regular collaborator, Norwegian filmmaker Mona Fastvold, the film is told in two chapter headings that move from 1947 to 1960 before leaping ahead to an epilogue in 1980.  Beginning with an extended overture playing over the highly stylized opening credits, Daniel Blumberg - Overture (Ship) | The Brutalist (Original ... YouTube (4:50), we hear a confusion of chaotic voices and a high-pitched siren as László (Adrien Brody) makes his way through the underdeck of a crowded ship arriving in America, while we hear his wife Erzsébet (Felicity Jones, who doesn’t even appear until the second half, revealing a completely different side of herself) reading a letter in voiceover, indicating she must stay behind in Budapest, “There is nothing left for us here,” before we are plunged into darkness.  Emerging out of the depths, he is bombarded by light and the first signs of the Statue of Liberty, inverted initially, suggesting things are askew in pursuing the American Dream, as it keeps changing positions before finally standing upright.  Welcome to America.  Fast-forward to the present, the metaphorical tilt of Lady Liberty reminds us of the self-righteous political trend of demonizing immigrants, which is an attempt to whitewash history, as America is a nation of immigrants, founded on the premise of freedom of religion.  What stands out in this mesmerizing opening sequence is the unbridled power of cinema, in all its awe and splendor, where the technical level is astonishing, as the grand and imposing music by Daniel Blumberg (the original choice was Scott Walker, who died in 2019, where the opening credits end with “In Memory of Scott Walker”) and equally impressive sound design that includes a healthy use of industrial noises are in perfect sync with the 70mm VistaVision imagery from Lol Crawley, giving it an aesthetic of movies from the same time period, the first American film to use that format since Marlon Brando’s sole directorial credit with ONE EYED JACKS (1961), where right from the outset we can tell this is virtuoso filmmaking.  The subject, however, happens to be an intricate examination of the people who inhabit the film, a character study of adults doing adult things, living real lives, where disappointment is built into the fabric of the human experience.  There are a gazillion producers listed, with an equal number of different opinions, no doubt, on how to make this film, where the relationship between the financiers and the filmmaker couldn’t be more personal, but it’s Corbet’s singular artistic vision that stands out, unfettered by their input, as opposed to what happens in the film itself, where the benefactor interferes with every minute aspect of artistic creation.  Adrien Brody won a Best Actor Academy Award, still the youngest actor at the age of 29 to win the award, infamously kissing unsuspecting presenter Halle Berry on the lips, playing a celebrated Jewish-Polish classical pianist and Holocaust survivor in THE PIANIST (2002), also appearing in a cameo role as Salvador Dalí in Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris (2011), so he’s not afraid to take on roles with extreme range and emotional depth.  Here he is the central focus of this entire film, inflicted by personal demons, having survived Buchenwald, one of the biggest Nazi concentration camps, but the weight of the past refuses to let go, remaining an oppressive burden that is in every fiber of his being, fortunate to even be alive and breathing, as so many others were not so fortunate.  As he passes through Ellis Island and makes his way to Philadelphia, he finds his cousin, Attila (Alessandro Nivola), who owns a custom furniture store that’s not exactly bustling with business, euphorically informing him that his family is alive.  Taking a spare closet in the back of the storeroom, where he has to go outside and back inside to use a bathroom, he’s a helpful hand with few complaints, but saddened at the slow developments in reuniting with his family, as Erzsébet was not born Jewish, but converted for the marriage, with all the required records and documents lost in transit, leaving them in limbo.  While standing in line at a soup kitchen, he runs into Gordon (Isaach de Bankolé) a black father with his young son, immediately striking up a friendship that will last decades, as they find themselves in similar circumstances, immigrants alone struggling to survive in America, sharing that same sense of rootlessness and outsiderism.

A film about grief and loss that examines the motives of religious and racial discrimination, the misery of addictions, and economic exploitation, while offering a scathing critique of America as a bastion of freedom and the land of plenty, as there is a brutal underside to capitalism and the obscene wealth of a precious few, creating an overcontrolling, ego-driven billionaire mindset that has run amok (especially today) and derailed the hopes and dreams of ordinary people, or especially anyone that’s different, by creating unending chaos for the most vulnerable living amongst us, while also having a neutralizing impact on art, toning down the rough edges, obscuring originality, belittling anything that’s provocative, regurgitating the same formula over and over, making everything more homogenized for the mainstream.  One of the frequently recurring motifs is a head-on POV shot of a car speeding down an open road, or a train barreling down a track, typically accompanied by industrial sounds, where that percussive thump emphatically accentuates the power of progress, which is given a literary sweep, with a visualized mix of roads and rails and architecture, as time waits for no one moving forward.  There is a newsreel-like insert of the history of Pennsylvania in the making of America, as it is the center of the steel industry, with smokestacks puffing billows of smoke into the skies.  It isn’t pretty, but it illustrates how necessary the hard, dirty work is in building a nation, where there is a grim look to the postwar rebuilding years in America that this film brilliantly captures.  A break comes when a wealthy family wants to commission the services of the cousins in renovating a personal study on the grounds of a massive estate in nearby Doylestown, where Harry (Joe Alwyn) wants to surprise his millionaire father Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pearce) by transforming his prized, yet darkly cluttered reading room into a state-of-the-art library, with László tearing down the velvet curtains covering the massive windows while cleverly shielding the books from the sunlight with moving bookshelves, transforming it into an ultramodern, minimalist mecca of open space and light, creating a quiet place of reflection that is completely different, while bringing Gordon along for the construction.  Even if you know next to nothing about architecture, this film makes you intrinsically understand that it means something personally, yet it so offends Harrison upon his return that he screams for the trespassers to leave, refusing to pay for this abomination, leaving the cousins fending for themselves afterwards, even threated with an expensive lawsuit, basically driving them in different directions, with Attila angrily kicking him out, fueled by false accusations from his Catholic wife of sexual advances.  It’s a sad state of affairs, driven to desperation and anguish, living in a shelter while turning to drugs and dangerous construction work, where it’s Harrison’s turn to surprise László, having done some research into his background, discovering he’s a visionary European architect, having studied in the Bauhaus, considered way ahead of his time, with many important buildings on his resumé, but in America he’s a misunderstood nobody.  Apologizing profusely for his unforgivable behavior, Harrison, based in part on chemist and art collector Albert C. Barnes, has become a big fan of that futuristic library transformation, becoming the envy of his peers, given a photospread in Look magazine, yet this is also the first time viewers get a chance to see to full extent of László’s creations, where he’s not some ordinary man, but a tormented artist with aspirations to leave behind a monumental legacy that’s designed to last.  Harrison, a self-made industry titan who is the epitome of the American Dream, is a wealthy patron who wants to avail himself of that daunting possibility by building an enormous shrine to his late mother on a nearby hillside high above the stately grounds of his estate, offering László the complete freedom to design a mammoth project that would include a community center comprised of an auditorium, a library, a gymnasium, a meditative house of worship, and possibly even a swimming pool, all sharing the same space, his own City upon a Hill.  Living on the grounds while it’s under construction, the family attorney Michael (Peter Polycarpou) helps him expedite the process of reuniting with his family, helping them procure the necessary documents, where the obstacles are formidable, as both women endured Dachau and are now stuck in a displaced-persons camp in Hungary under Soviet control, The Brutalist (2025) Movie Clip 'Announcement' Adrien Brody ... YouTube (1:13).  It’s the chance of a lifetime, where László’s dream mirrors America’s postwar transformation, and in each case it’s full speed ahead, where the future is suddenly limitless, as the frenetic energy on display is emblematic of László’s unconstrained joy and optimism, having dug himself out of the depths, bringing the first half to a resounding close.    

When Erzsébet and his young niece Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy) finally arrive, it’s clear they’ve been through Hell, as the trauma of the war is everpresent, with his vulnerable wife in a wheelchair, her legs crippled from famine, while his teenage niece is mute, her parents killed in the death camps.  Despite the immensity of the tragedy and the horrible impact on their damaged lives, they are not exactly welcomed to the grounds, remaining strangers even to one another at first, thankful for the relief of finally being reunited, though the cultural disconnect with the surrounding community is everpresent.  Harry, the arrogant and entitled son, is oblivious to what they’ve been through, finding them odd and peculiar, and not one of them, suggesting they are not liked, but merely “tolerated,” while smugly insinuating sexual abuse of Zsófia, accentuating a racist perspective of hostility toward Jewish outsiders in their midst, suggesting they will never be equals, where local demands have been made to change a universal space of reflection to a Christian chapel, in accordance with the WASP (White Anglo-Saxon Protestants) values of Doylestown.  While the size of the project is massive, accentuating industrial materials like concrete, steel, and glass, with starkly minimalist, modernist, and even futuristic designs, abstract shapes are used sparingly for décor, with a wealth of exposed space, using simple color schemes, creating a holistic design that is conceptually awe-inspiring while also functional.  Harrison keeps finding ways to undermine László’s vision by tightening the strings on the budget, callously insisting on changing the dimensions to something smaller, hiring cronies who are only concerned with minimizing costs, which leads to cheaper products, producing catastrophic results, as we see a freight train with building materials from an aerial view disappearing in a cloud of smoke before bursting into flames, incurring the wrath of Harrison, shutting the project down with plenty of finger-pointing and ensuing legal woes, creating an artistic divide that sends László spiraling into an alcohol and drug-dependent depression, which changes how he navigates the world.  The whirlwind nature of the first act slows down considerably as we see the deepening psychological ramifications, with Zsófia believing it is their duty to live in Israel, a newly formed Zionist nation, free from the prejudicial assaults they are continually faced with, needing a safe haven where they can live without fear.  Erzsébet is inclined to agree, though László holds out hope of fulfilling his dreams in America.  Years later, Harrison reconnects with László, going on a strange and mysterious odyssey to the mountainous village of Carrara in Italy in search of the most beautiful marble on the planet, which becomes a mind-altering experience, where a visit deep into the mines is like plunging into the depths of the underworld, but in the alcohol-fueled celebration afterwards, something deeply bullying and dominant happens, changing the entire trajectory of the film, as Harrison once again imposes his will in the most heinous manner imaginable.  The film internalizes the damage done in ways that are shocking, exposing the self-centered, insular nature of the rich and powerful, whose sole objective is making a profit by crushing those who are weaker, immune to any consequences, pretending to be pillars of the community and devoted patrons of the arts, but they prove to be heartless and soulless scoundrels caught up in narcissistic megalomania, who only want to cement their own legacy by enlarging their already considerable egos, incapable of comprehending what it takes to conceive great art.  Corbet has an ability to create carefully choreographed, elongated sequences that are dramatically impressive, allowing the actors to expand upon their roles, as there is an inevitable confrontation of this deepening divide that plunges us into the psychological depths of moral depravity, where art may be the saving grace, but it is absent in the brutality of unspeakable acts, leading to a strikingly powerful moral abyss of epic proportions, with a few shocking surprises, as Erzsébet stunningly conveys what an amazing woman she is, brazenly confronting the despicable behavior of the more privileged Van Buren family, who treacherously prey on the weak.  Their angry yet entitled response is to have her forcibly dragged out of there, yet what follows is an ecstatic labyrinthian journey of pure cinema.  The film suggests we are doomed to repeat the same mistakes we do not recognize in ourselves, revealing the cyclical nature of history, cleverly and transparently bringing the film into the present.  The brief epilogue inverts what we’ve seen before, jumping ahead two decades, where the earlier, perpetually unfinished projects have been completed, and now it’s László in a wheelchair, with Erzsébet wheeling him into a retrospective of his work that is being commemorated in Venice, where an adult Zsófia (Ariane Labed, the wife of director Yorgos Lanthimos), the proud guardian of her uncle’s legacy, gives a speech highlighting how their experience with the Holocaust inspired her uncle’s works, suggesting the past is always present, while the transcendent immortality of art literally has no price.  The improbable closing music over the credits is a rousing disco song by Italian pop duo La Bionda, La Bionda - One For Me, One For You (1978) YouTube (5:33), ironically sending viewers on their merry way.   

Sunday, May 5, 2024

Anselm (Anselm – Das Rauschen der Zeit)






























Director Wim Wenders


Wenders with Anselm Kiefer


Anselm Kiefer



















ANSELM (Anselm – Das Rauschen der Zeit)                       B                                                aka:  Anselm: The Noise of Time                                                                                     Germany  (93 mi)  2023  d: Wim Wenders

It wasn’t […] a provocation for the sake of it.  I did what I thought was absolutely necessary at the time […]  It was during a time [1968–69] when the whole subject of World War II, fascism, the Third Reich, was not addressed at all.  In school, we had it for three weeks and that was it. At this time, it was very important to bring all this back into memory and work on it.  I held a mirror up to everyone’s face.             —Anselm Kiefer on Occupations (Besetzungen)

Having both grown up in a postwar German landscape at precisely the same time, both attending the same university at Freiburg-im-Breisgau (Kiefer studied law, Wenders studied medicine before pursuing different directions), Wenders explores the massive artistic designs of multi-dimensional artist and sculptor Anselm Kiefer, eschewing any talking heads or biographical attempts to understand the man’s life and instead delves completely into his works with an unapologetically admiring profile, literally immersing viewers into an undiscovered world, much like Werner Herzog’s Cave of Forgotten Dreams 3D (2010), using 3D (recorded in 6k resolution) to alter our perspective, as the depth of field changes the act of seeing, providing a more spatial context in our minds as opposed to the traditional flat surface, taking the film to a more transcendental level.  This film may actually bring viewers closer to Kiefer’s work than they might otherwise have the opportunity to see in their lifetimes.  He’s also written nearly two dozen books, none of which are explored here, also designing a one-of-a-kind series that are handmade with mixed materials, including photographs that are sometimes painted over, and are among his least accessible works, where it is usually not possible to see more than a few pages at a time when exhibited in galleries, while one publication has assembled selected pages from 75 of these in one volume, The Books of Anselm Kiefer, 1969-1990.  Premiering at Cannes as a special screening, his second film at the festival along with Perfect Days (2023) which screened in competition, it is arranged chronologically on the basis of the workshops Kiefer has had, impeccably shot by Franz Lustig and stereographer Sebastian Cramer, often feeling like floating, which really gives viewers a sense of the epic scale of the work, Wenders also employs Leonard Küßner as an award-winning German composer, where the music is the least noticed aspect of the film, though its whispered voices offscreen are reminiscent of Wings of Desire (Der Himmel über Berlin) (1987), with the director curiously borrowing liberally from a Jack Cocker BBC television documentary entitled ANSELM KIEFER: REMEMBERING THE FUTURE (2014), which seems like a controversial choice, using archival interviews as a biographic profile.  Lacking the colorful sensuality and rhythmic grace of Pina in 3D (2011), where viewers are enveloped in the dance movement of Pina Bausch, literally taking us into the choreographed realms of her imagination, this is a more somber, intellectual work, like retreating into the archives of old painting books, which is essentially what this film does, highlighting some of the staggering work of one of the greatest artists of our time, though his path has been filled with controversy, immersing himself into the “open wound of German history” at a time when Germany was still recovering from the war, where his mission was to “protest against forgetting” and recontextualize history, believing art can potentially heal not only a traumatized nation but a divided world.  He rattled some feathers in the late 1960’s and early 70’s as he outraged his fellow Germans with his photo-essay of Nazi salutes in a series of self-portraits in various European locations entitled Occupations (Besetzungen), (Occupations / Heroic Symbols – In Focus), a gesture that was not only shocking, but illegal as the Sieg Heil Nazi salute was a punishable crime in Germany since the denazification in 1945.  It was his way of forcing his fellow Germans to confront the past rather than ignore it, reaching back beyond the postwar period to many traditional German themes, calling up the history of German culture, depicting figures such as Richard Wagner and Goethe, using paintings to engage in the past and ask ethical questions. The affront he generated led to accusations from Belgian poet and visual artist Marcel Broodthaers that he’s “a fascist who thinks he’s an antifascist,” drawing criticism that he was a reactionary from the German press, which was not yet ready to open a dialogue with the past, instead espousing the political agenda of forgetting anything regarding Hitler and the Nazi’s, having purged remnants of the National Socialist ideology as an unwanted past that must be swept aside to make way for the “normalization” of the future.  Though he was largely shunned in Germany, Kiefer found a new audience in the United States, achieving fame and notoriety in equal measure in the 1980’s.  After the war, German artists rarely acknowledged the violence of the Third Reich, much less the Holocaust, while also refusing to acknowledge the presence of former Nazis in German society, many of whom returned to positions of influence, as the country at the time was instead focused on a singleminded path to modernization and economic stability.  Both known for their aesthetic explorations of German national identity, Rainer Werner Fassbinder was that rare filmmaker who similarly addressed this issue, driven to redefine what it meant to be German in a post-Nazi world, especially in his later films like BERLIN ALEXANDERPLATZ (1980), LILI MARLEEN (1981), and the BRD Trilogy, where a theme of forgetting the past is especially prominent in Veronika Voss (Die Sehnsucht der Veronika Voss) (1981). 

There is no one quite like Anselm Kiefer, having studied under Peter Dreher (Peter Dreher: 'In my pictures I underline the act of seeing') in Karlsruhe and Joseph Beuys (Who Was Joseph Beuys, and Why Was He Important?) in Düsseldorf, where his painting began to elucidate his contempt for the Nazis and their reprehensible legacy, instilling his brush strokes with a combination of rage and grief, obsessively concerned with images of myth and history, which can never escape one another.  Kiefer is famous for saying “Art really is something very difficult.  It is difficult to make, and it is sometimes difficult for the viewer to understand.”  A chronicle of a country still not ready to face its racist and murderous past, Wenders examines an artist who explores human existence and the cyclical nature of history, where his practice of creating art seeks to reclaim the spirit of German and Norse mythology, exploring how it was misused as propaganda by the Nazis, where a recurring theme is a fascination with the seasonal nature of elements and their ability to continually be reborn.  Drawing inspiration from literature, poetry, philosophy, science, mythology, and religion, the documentary is a visual and emotional experience, allowing viewers to watch such a gifted artist in the act of creation, unconventionally working through different mediums, as relatively few artists paint with blowtorches and melting pots, highlighting the immensity and complexity of Kiefer's work.  For instance, the elusive poetry of Holocaust survivor Paul Celan (the only member of his family to survive) has played a role, a constant presence in Kiefer’s paintings since adolescence when he discovered the 1945 poem written in a concentration camp, Todesfuge (Death Fugue), Death Fugue by Paul Celan - Poems, a lyrical evocation of the Nazi death camps, which Celan reads out loud as the camera slowly pans the surface of a series of Kiefer paintings, where this interaction accentuates what’s so essential about both men.  With its own intoxicating rhythm and sound, the horror of the content of Celan’s poem is made more horrific through the juxtaposition of the poem’s sonic strangeness and Kiefer’s own painterly expression, where the subject matter intrudes heavily on the surfaces, with thick black paint mixed with soot and straw, drawing us into the history of the Third Reich, though unfortunately Celan drowned himself in the Seine on Hitler’s birthday in 1970.  People are largely absent in Kiefer’s works, where there are enormous paintings of devastated landscapes, with the artist acknowledging “You can’t just paint a landscape when tanks have driven through it.”  Kiefer also works with different textures, mixing lead, glass, straw, wood, seeds, dried flowers, and ash with brick, sand, concrete, textiles, plant material, books, and fire.  As his list of materials grew, so too did the scale of his canvases, employing the use of cranes, forklifts, and a lifting platform.  Working with themes of history, memory, and mythology, Kiefer produces work that is consistently controversial and monumental in its scale and ambition, where seeing the film in a theater may help viewers grasp just how large and impressive his work really is, where an early shot from high above in an industrial sized warehouse reveals a tiny human on the floor dwarfed by the grandiosity of the building, as we see the artist bicycling through a massive studio comprised of his work, ANSELM by Wim WENDERS - Clip 1 YouTube (1:07).  We’ve seen his artistry reverently showcased a decade earlier by Sophie Fiennes in her near wordless film Over Your Cities Grass Will Grow (2010), where we see the sprawling Barjac studio complex taking shape, featuring a soundtrack by Ligeti, where this may be considered an extension of that film, no longer the construction project it was a decade ago, as we’re finally able to walk inside and feel the enormity of it all.  Perhaps Kiefer and his place in history can also be viewed through the contrasting lens of different genders from Fiennes and Wenders, which bring a unique aspect to one’s appreciation, as we draw on our own personal experiences and backgrounds, often viewing the same things quite differently.  Shot over the course of two years, Wenders does provide some backstory about Kiefer’s childhood and how he became an artist, intermingling archival footage of children playing in the postwar rubble, while also introducing young actors playing a re-enacted version of the artist as a boy and young man, which happens to be played by the great nephew and son of the filmmaker and artist at different ages, Anton Wenders and Daniel Kiefer, another decision some might find questionable, where more than anything it seems to bind the vision of two German artists together, while eventually allowing the older and younger Anselm to become one.     

Wenders traces Kiefer’s path from his native Germany to his current home in France, connecting the stages of his life to the essential places of a career that spans more than five decades, where the film reinvents paintings, photographs, archival footage, sculptures, drawings, woodcuts, buildings, and landscapes, blurring the borders between the past and the present.  While some may extol the virtues of 3D, which is notorious for darkening the already darkened images of this artist, the colossal size of Kiefer’s work is already staggering, where honing in on the 3D volume and spatial largesse is not really necessary, as viewers already get the point, though it does intensify the aesthetic experience, where the sharp textures are quite simply amazing.  What really stands out, however, is one artist merging their creative vision with another, as that’s unique in any film, where the obvious question in making this documentary remains, how do you present a piece of art in a way that allows viewers to come to their own interpretation while also respecting the artist’s original intent?  Hoping to confront the horrors of his country’s history, Kiefer uses charred remnants of his paintings to make books, symbols of learning and transmitting knowledge, wanting the pages to simulate the burnt flesh of those who died in the Holocaust, taking an unflinching view of the dark side of humanity.  The son of a German art teacher, Kiefer’s books have constituted a significant part of his work, where one of the more amusing scenes has the artist flipping through the pages of a vintage old art book while simultaneously holding his cigar, something unthinkable for any of the rest of us, afraid we’d ruin the page from dropped ashes, but Kiefer is under no such illusion, as if the books were an extension of his hands, where in his mind they are inseparable.  Working in the wooded region of Odenwald for the early part of his career, he converted a former brick factory into his studio, creating an early series of sculptures of white wedding dresses dipped in plaster, headless figures that stand in a wooded landscape, monuments to the “known-unknown women of antiquity,” paying homage to poets like Sappho, whose poems were “recomposed following the quotations of men,” where most of her real words are lost to history, yet we hear the whispered voices of women, “We may be the nameless and the forgotten, but we do not forget a thing.”  When seen in 3D, beams of light reach all the way into the theater, providing a warm glow.  He would go on to create another series featuring wedding dresses, with their flowing pleats cast in plaster, resin, or bronze.  Kiefer is a great revisitor of themes, where his art is best seen not as a progression but as a cycle, a reflection of how he sees the present and the past.  “No atom is ever lost,” he points out, and so, for him, the atoms that surround him and make up his work are the tangible remains of former times and long dead people, not just part of himself, but also a part of Shakespeare, Nietzsche, and even Hitler, with sentence fragments offering a commentary on his work,  ANSELM by Wim WENDERS - Clip 2 YouTube (1:11).  The Kiefer worldview is probably best seen at La Ribaute, his sprawling 200 acre compound near Barjac in the Cévennes of France, as the nearby woods reminded him of the Black Forest of his childhood.  When Kiefer moved there in 1992 he needed 70 truckloads to move the contents of his studio, turning this quiet domain into a Brobdingnag, a fictional land of the giants, crafted on an Olympian scale, viewed as his Wagneresque Gesamtkunstwerk, surely one of the most extraordinary artworks of the last century, but Wenders offers no commentary, never questioning the gargantuan excess on display, or how it might mirror the grandiosity of Nazi aesthetics, allowing the works to speak for themselves.  A former silk factory in the 19th century, it has expanded considerably following the artist’s development projects, from the gigantic four-story concrete amphitheater to the underground networks of crypts, tunnels, and artificial ponds.  Dotting the grounds are giant cubes, teetering concrete towers made from shipping containers, a cathedral-like barn filled with house-sized paintings, an underground temple of Karnak, with a series of subterranean pavilions the size of tennis courts, each filled with a single work inside, where the colossal effect is overwhelming.  The site is what Kiefer calls “reverse architecture,” putting artifacts back into the landscape, initially moving there for its wildness and to escape the art world, but this is another way of addressing and redressing the past.  La Ribaute is no longer his main workplace, having donated that to posterity, as he moved to another mammoth-sized studio at a warehouse in Croissy-Beaubourg outside Paris.  One of the changes in Kiefer's work after his move to France was a broadening of his themes, as after leaving Germany behind, he moved on from the war as well.  Perhaps a reflection of his own mortality, his art after the 1990’s is more obsessed with a connection between heaven and earth, painting swirling constellations with the same dark tonality, suggesting both order and chaos. 

Anselm Kiefer: Remembering the Future on Vimeo  Jack Cocker BBC Documentary from 2014,YouTube (1:03:44)